Hypothalamus

My hypothalamus is haunting me. An empty crib. A bump that will never grow. Love authenticity, you will always be a part of me. A ghost in the hallways. Your heart beat in my deepest quetiapine dreams. A scan that will never show your sweetest echo. Father, why would you make me bleed the love so pure? I lost my voice from speaking you into existence. He runs his fingers over my stomach my breath hitching, hoping yours is too. My hypothalamus is haunting me.